


Darling Dear (Love You All The Time)

by peterparks



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Guardian Angels, Implied/Referenced Underage Drinking, M/M, keith is an incompetent guardian angel, lance really does NOT like said guardian angel, pop culture references, will add tags as story continues
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-23
Updated: 2018-03-23
Packaged: 2019-04-06 21:19:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 804
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14065797
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/peterparks/pseuds/peterparks
Summary: Lance swore that when the cinema lights had gone down that there hadn’t been anyone seated next to him, and he was pretty certain that no one had come in during the film, and yet when the lights came back up at the end of the credits, the man was sitting to his right. He looked thoroughly disgruntled like he’d just been dragged out of bed. He looked Lance over, annoyance evident across his face. Lance felt his mouth fall agape. "Lance, I'm your guardian angel."





	Darling Dear (Love You All The Time)

**Author's Note:**

> fic title from "earth angel" by the penguins.  
> to continue the theme, chapter title is _also _a song by the penguins__

The first time Lance had seen him, Lance was pretty sure he’d been hallucinating. Lance could remember it sharply; the air had been sticky, humid, leaving his clothes stuck to him. It was nine pm, and for some reason, he’d convinced a bunch of eighteen-year-olds that his sixteen-year-old self was  _somehow_ able to access alcohol. Lance was sure he’d be completely screwed: that he’d let these kids that he didn’t particularly like anyway realise that he was dropless and ruin his life. That was, until a man (more of a boy, really; he looked maybe nineteen, tops, though Lance tried not to think on that) approached him, looked him dead in the eye, handed him three six-packs of beer, and, quite literally, _disappeared._  Like heat dissipating in winter.

 

The dude had been about an inch shorter than him, with black hair coming to his mid-neck. The boy had looked pale, aside from a splash of colour across his cheeks. He’d come towards Lance with such annoyance and ferocity that he’d hardly registered what had happened at all. It wasn’t until later that he’d stopped to wonder who the _fuck_ the guy had been. After all, who gave away alcohol for free? And to a _kid_ , nonetheless?

 

Lance had seen him probably about three times since then, each time as perplexing as the last. When Lance was seventeen and a half (Lance felt the continual need to count down to specifics when it came to age, if only to shove it in the face of his friend Rolo, who was about four months younger than him) the same guy had reserved him a space at a _Pixies_ concert, but then vanished from sight once again. When Lance was eighteen, he’d appeared again, to push Lance out of the way when a car had pulled out in front of him and almost hit him. Once again, he’d disappeared, but Lance would recognise him anywhere – he always was dressed the same: an otherwise head-to-toe black outfit with a red long-sleeved jacket that had a high collar, and was lined with white and had yellow stripes across the breasts. He seemed in serious need of a haircut, but, based on the fact that his hair hadn’t seemed to have changed in all those years, Lance assumed that the man _did_ cut it that way.

 

The last time Lance had seen him, Lance had been nineteen. They hadn’t interacted at all; Lance didn’t even think he’d noticed him. The man had been leaning against a wall, blending into the crowd the best he could, as if he _didn’t_ draw attention due to the fact that he literally looked like he’d just stepped out of an eighties cartoon. Lance had turned to his best friend Hunk at the time and said a simple, _“Who’s that guy with the mullet over there?_ ”, to which Hunk looked in the direction that Lance was pointing and simply scowled. “There’s nothing there, Lance.”

 

And sure enough, when Lance looked over again, he was gone. It was like in the _Harry Potter_ books (which Lance loved with his every fibre of being; according to _Pottermore_ , he was a Gryffindor) and the man had just disapparated into thin air. But this wasn’t _Harry Potter_ , and Lance was beyond confused by the mysterious man at this point.

 

 _Next time I see him_ , Lance thought, _I’m going to demand some answers_.

 

Strangely enough considering the large time gap in Lance’s previous brushes with him, the man showed up again just two days later. Lance _swore_ that when the cinema lights had gone down that there hadn’t been anyone seated next to him, and he was pretty certain that no one had come in during the film, and yet when the lights came back up at the end of the credits, the man was sitting to his right. He looked thoroughly disgruntled like he’d just been dragged out of bed. He looked Lance over, annoyance evident across his face. Lance felt his mouth fall agape.

 

“What do you want?” the mysterious man said. He pressed his middle and index fingers to his temple, leaning against his arm, seemingly bored.

“What do you mean ‘ _What do I want?’_ You’re the one who’s been _stalking_ me?” Lance exclaims incredulously.

The other man sighs. “Don’t be so loud. You’ll attract attention.”

Lance scoffed. “So you _have_ been stalking me?”

“No!”

“But you just _said_ –”

“Look,” he says in a lowered voice, “This isn’t exactly ideal for _me,_ either. You’ve just got to roll with it.”

“Roll with _what_ –”

“Lance,” he speaks, softly. His eyes look up at Lance, seeming to try and find something in his face. He doesn’t speak for a moment, his eyes falling shut as he inhales sharply. He sighs, looking back up at Lance. “I’m your guardian angel.”

 


End file.
